


Close the Door When You Go

by YearsAndDays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 03:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearsAndDays/pseuds/YearsAndDays
Summary: Absent mindedly Sam walks slowly toward the elevator. Steps approach from the other direction but he pays it no mind. Until they stop right beside him, that is.“Hello, Stranger," the someone says, and Sam can feel how he smirks. He fights the urge to knock it off his stupidly hot face. Because Sam doesn’t even need to look up to know who it is. “Of course,” he mutters to himself. Why does this keep happening to him? Sam sighs inwardly.Sam's staying late at the office, where he meets Lucifer. At first, he can't stand the handsome man that keeps smirking but overtime, they grow closer.





	Close the Door When You Go

It’s nine o’clock on a Monday night, and Sam is tired. He is still at the office, even though most people went home hours ago. Usually, Sam would be home by now, but today has already been enough of a shit day with clients canceling and shipments not arriving at there said time. So the least he can do is finishing his own work.

On another day he’d be able to go on for much longer without breaking a sweat, but today was not that kind of day.

Sam blinks a few times and tries to focus on the document he’s working on again, but it turns out to be useless. He is too tired.

Sighing, Sam stands up. He needed coffee if he wanted to finish it tonight. Sam had always liked coffee, hell, on his college days he’d only made it thanks to the liquid. But from where his desk stood, at the very end of this floor, the walk across it to get to the coffee machine was not worth it. Not at all. The time it took to get there while trying to dodge getting stuck into a polite, _forced_ , conversation was both undesired and stole precious time meant for working, not talking. So he had stepped down on drinking it lately, sticking to mornings or, like today, emergencies.

Sam walked in a blissful awareness that he was alone (except for the janitor, located a floor down.) No expectations and no need for good manners. It was only him.

 _Finally some time alone_.

His good mood disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived.

There might just be something more that is bothering Sam, something else keeping him here, not just the bad day. Or rather, _someone_ else.

Tuesday last week his brother had arrived and resided in his apartment until Monday morning, _this morning_. It hadn’t been more than 12 hours since Dean had hugged him tight and walked out the door, on his way to the airport and he already missed him.

That, him stopping by, was a frequent thing that had occurred over the years since he’d moved to _freaking_ England. But it didn’t matter how fun and exciting his stay was, it still hurts just as much as the first time when he walks out that door, gets into that cab and leaves him behind, _again_. Always again.

He tries on focus on the perks of being alone again. Sam loves Dean, he really do, he is probably his favorite person _but_ he’s a handful. With him came his mess, his weird habits, and loud music. Apparently, he’d fought with Castiel, his roommate, so his mood had been practically fuming the entire week.

It reminded him of the time when his family found out about college.

Secretly, half a year before his eighteenth birthday, Sam had applied to the college of his dreams. But when Sam sent it in, it had been more of an _‘at least I tried to get in’_ than a serious application. He never actually thought he’d make it. Sending it had been more of an excuse to tell himself in the future when he thought back on why he’d never taken the chance to follow his hopes and dreams.

A few months later, he had almost forgotten about it. But one day when he came home from school and unlocked the door, stepping inside, Dean was waiting for him. In the hallway, next to the slightly cracked mirror he stood, staring at him silently.

He avoided his brother’s eyes for a moment, shrugging off his jacket and stepping out of his shoes. _“Hi,”_ he then said carefully, turning his gaze back toward him. _“Don’t you have the late shift tonight? It’s Thursday.”_ he continued when he didn’t answer.

Sam fought the urge to shudder when he saw his brother’s expression. It was blank, no emotion shining through his eyes. A prickle of fear ran down his spine. Dean was always showing some kind of emotion.

The silence was eating him from the inside as it sparked with tense intensity. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Dean cut him off by crossing his arms over his chest. Sam quickly closed his mouth.

 _“Bobby’s youngest daughter is sick, so we had to close early,”_ Dean finally replied.

Sam flinched at the darkness in his voice. He must’ve heard him use that tone it a million times but never against him. “ _What_ -”

What _is this?”_ he hissed, and for the first time Sam noticed the tucked paper in Dean’s hand as he uncrossed his arms and properly showed it to him. He held it tightly, knuckles pale from the effort. _Why would he?_ Oh. _Oh_.

Sam’s eyes widened as he recognized it as a letter, mouth slightly agape. _His letter_.

Excitement swirled in his belly, but it didn’t last long. Quickly, it was replaced by regret. _If this was Dean’s reaction, what would their father’s be?_ The thought alone made him want to go and hide somewhere far away, somewhere out of reach.

For days afterward Sam walked around as a zombie and barely even saw his brother as they avoided each other like the plague.

That lasted for a week and two days.

Until one morning, where everything completely changed. Dean had hugged him when he went downstairs to make himself breakfast before school and told him that he wasn’t really mad at him or that he’d gotten in. He was actually very proud. He just couldn’t believe Sam hadn’t told him about it and had let his wounded feelings get the best of him.

Sam apologized for lying and she nodded. He didn’t wait for her to do the same. He’d never heard her apologize, and maybe that was for the best.

He hugged his brother again, and Dean said _, “I love you, Sammy. I’ll talk to Dad, okay? You’re gonna do this, and you’re gonna make me proud.”_ Flashing him a big grin. “ _Just let me handle this and then we’re gonna go out in the big, wide world together, I promise.”_

And he didn’t disappoint.

Soon enough they had packed their things and moved to a small apartment that Dean had somehow found for a good price. Sam had been guilty about that, making him spend his money but Dean just laughed it off. “I’ve been saving money for my own place anyway. And besides, this town gives me the chance to start my own business. I’ve always wanted that you know, and now, without a rival company, I can finally do that!”

And oh boy, he did. It started off slow, but he soon regained the favor of the whole town. Dean even turned Dad around those last few months, and except for a few grunts and _‘wise-words’_ slurred here and there, he’d barely given Sam a hard time about it at all. It’d been worse those days when he was particularly drunk, but that didn’t count. No one could stop that.

The time had when they lived together, just them, lasted for four years. Sure, Dean had kept him from valuable study time with his ‘ _adventures’_ , was probably a bad influence and they drove each other nuts, but that period in Sam’s life had been the happiest one.

That was years ago, but Dean still nagged to him about work, and why his social life only consisted of a handful of friends and some rare nights spent at the pub. Last weekend hadn’t been an exception.

 _“You’re so boring!”_ Dean groaned in frustration, poking him with her toe. _“Go out, do something fun for once!”_ Sam glanced at his brother, sighing, _“Can you be quiet? I’m trying to read.”_ He poked him again and Sam threw him a glare before pushing his foot off the couch.

 _“And for the record, this is fun.”_ He pointed at his book.

Dean laughed, taking another swig of his beer. _“Nerd.”_

With enough dignity not to answer, Sam returned to his book.

_“You’re no fun.”_

At that, Sam couldn’t help but smile. _“You are no good influence, you know.”_

He smirked. _“Because that’s what you need, Sammy,”_ A laugh escaped him. _“Besides, you love it.”_ Dean sent him a wink and Sam rolled his eyes. _“Let’s go now, we’re heading out tonight!”_

Sam opened mouth to protest, but Dean silenced him with a threatening look. _“Or we’re listening to Taylor Swift till midnight.”_

Still not quite believing that Dean, his older rock loving brother, loved that kind of music too. Liked _her_. To Sam, it seemed like an odd mix, but he knew Dean wasn’t joking and didn’t question it.

It only took a second for him to decide. _“I guess we’re going out then.”_

Diana grinned, pleased with himself.

Putting his book down, Sam watched as Dean headed for the guest room, probably to change or get something. Last second before leaving the room though, he glanced back at him.

_“We are still listening to Swift, though.”_

_“Fuck.”_

_God_ , Sam had missed his own music!

Living on T-Swizzle and old rock was _not_ the life he wanted.

Before he knew it, he was mumbling a song under his breath.

“ _You put the boom-boom into my heart, you send my soul sky high when you’re lovin’ starts,”_

Sam entered the kitchen, still kind of singing as he grabbed a mug with the company logo on.

 _“Jitterbug into my brain,_ _Goes bang-bang-bang ‘til my feet do the same,”_

He put the cup in place and pressed the button.

_“But something’s bugging you,”_

The dark liquid starts pouring into the cup.

_“Something ain’t right, my best friend told me what you did last night,”_

Sam was tapping along now too, and the mumbling had turned into actual singing.

_“Left me sleepin’ in my bed, I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead,”_

Then the chorus came, and he couldn’t help but sing as loudly as he possibly could.

_Wake me up before you go-go, don’t leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!_

_Wake me up before you go-go, I don’t wanna miss when you hit that high!_

_Wake me up before you go-go, cause’ I’m not plannin’ on going solo!_

_Wake me up before you go-go, take me dancin’ tonight!_

_I wanna hit that high!”_

Horrified, Sam immediately stopped when he hears a loud crash. There was someone behind him, he realized. Sam spun around.

Looking caught but amused as hell, the man smirks and nods in acknowledgment. Sam wants to sink through the floor and die a slow, painful death. The guy opens his mouth to speak, only to close it a second later, still half smiling. Sam avoids the urge to sigh in relief, this is already horrible and embarrassing, and talking would make it way worse.

As Sam is re-thinking his life choices that led up to this point, the man bends down to pick up a blue jacket with a few red details. It was probably what had interrupted Sam from his… _singing_. He stands up to his full height, Sam’s eyes widen. _How long had he been standing there for?_ Sam doesn’t ask though, too afraid of the answer he might get.

“Wham, huh?” Sam tensed and braced for what’s to come. “I thought _Last Christmas_ would be their go-to song now when it’s soon Christmas and all.”

Sam blinks. This was not the turnout he had predicted. Startled enough, Sam automatically answers with the lie he had practiced and perfected over the years, for a moment forgetting what a weird situation he’s in. “I, eh – I am not overly fond of Christmas songs.”

A laugh – an actual genuine laugh – leaves the man’s mouth. Then his lips quirk in a smile, and he sends Sam a look he can’t read. “That’s… interesting.”

Sam furrows his brows, wanting to know what’s so interesting about that, but before he can proceed the guy’s phone goes off.

Sending Sam another glance, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and answers. The piercing sound pulls Sam out from whatever daze he’d been in and the embarrassment crawls back onto him again. Sam wants to hit himself with a shovel. Sadly enough, he doesn’t have one at the moment.

With a one last look at the guy, who is standing huddled with his phone, speaking quietly into the device, Sam seizes the opportunity presented before him.

The awkward embarrassment of the situation covers all traces of guilt as Sam, light on his feet, sneak out of the room.


End file.
